


A Question of Communication

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-20 19:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: Sequel to ‘No Spoken Word’.  Jim and Blair are learning to cope with their new relationship and Blair’s mutism, when an unforeseen incident threatens them once again.  Blair disappears from the loft, apparently abducted by person or persons unknown.  Can Jim find him in time to save him from further harm?





	1. Prompt - Out of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> A SenBingo story in 5 chapters = Prompts.  
> 1\. Out of the Past  
> 2\. Twenty-four hours to live  
> 3\. Most Wanted  
> 4\. After midnight  
> 5\. Home

**Chapter 1 – Prompt – Out of the Past:**   


**MCU bullpen: several weeks after Blair’s accidental shooting.**  


Jim pushed through the bullpen doors, a wry grin on his handsome face as he was immediately bombarded with questions from many of the room’s occupants. 

“Hey, Jimbo! How’s Sandy? When’s he coming in?” 

“Jim, my man! How’s Hairboy doing?” 

“Morning, Jim. Blair know when he’s going to be passed as fit to come back yet?” 

Holding up his hands in surrender, Jim chuckled as he looked around him, gratified to see the genuine interest in his friends’ and colleagues’ faces. He had already fielded many other such queries on his way up from the parking garage, and he knew that Blair would be amazed at how many of the PD’s personnel missed the popular observer-turned-consultant. 

“If you’ll all just give me a chance, I’ll supply the latest bulletin, OK? First off, he sends his good wishes to you all, and says he misses you. And he’s looking forward to cleaning your collective clocks on Friday’s poker night. As far as his health is concerned, he’s doing well, and will have the last of his stitches removed in the next couple of days. After that, he’ll have another check-up, with a view to getting a provisional return date. All being well, he’ll be given the go-ahead to return to light desk duty by the end of next week, although there’ll be nothing energetic for a good while yet. 

“Now, can I get on with my own work, guys?” 

“That’s great news, Jimbo,” Megan replied, as usual taking it upon herself to speak for them all. “It’ll be great to have him back here again. But has there been any improvement in his talking, mate? I mean, we all manage to communicate with him fine, but I miss his voice. We all do.” 

Sobering immediately, Jim glanced around at their expectant faces, taking in their nods and murmurs of approbation at her words. 

“No more than I do, Megs,” he answered feelingly, “but no, not yet. But he – _we_ – haven’t given up hope. He’s working every day with a speech therapist, so we’ll just have to see.” 

“Well, if anyone can beat this, Blair can,” Joel stated firmly. “And in the meantime, give him our best regards, Jim.” The kindly man patted Jim warmly on the shoulder before making his way back to his office, while the others dispersed to their desks to resume their work. 

Jim was about to take his own seat when Simon’s head popped around his office door. 

“Jim? A word, in my office, please.” 

Changing direction with a nod and a grin, Jim walked over to his captain’s inner sanctum and entered, his grin widening in response to Simon’s welcoming smile. 

“Hey, Captain, sir! What can I do for you?” Jim addressed his friend and boss cheerfully. 

“Take a load off, for a start,” Simon responded, pointing to a chair. “Coffee? I think you’ll like this one, even if it still tastes like Maxwell House to me!” he added, smirking at his own long-standing jest. 

When Jim nodded gratefully, he poured two mugs and handed one to his subordinate before settling down at his desk. The two men sipped in companionable silence for a few minutes before Simon put his mug down. 

“So, Jim, by the look of you, I’d say that Sandburg must be still improving, am I right? He certainly seemed a lot more chipper when I dropped by last time.” 

“Yeah, yes, he is, Simon,” Jim responded with a smile. “Like I just told the guys, the last stitches come out on Wednesday, and then on Friday he’ll have a thorough check-up at the Outpatients’ clinic with Dr Manning. And if he passes well enough, we could be seeing him back here for a few hours’ gentle desk duty a few days after that.” 

“That’s great, Jim. I know I speak for a lot of folks here when I say I’ll be glad to see him back. Even if he can’t go out in the field for some time to come, Homicide have a couple of cases that really could benefit from his insight, and I dare say you won’t complain once he’s back here either, will you?” 

“You’re right there, sir. At least when he’s back here, he won’t be bending my ear, so to speak, complaining about being bored! He has to be the most impatient patient I’ve ever met with!” 

“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle, Jim?” Simon snickered. “Since when have you ever been sweetness and light when you’re injured? Blair’s had his fair share of your grumpiness to deal with after all over the years.” 

At Jim’s rueful grimace and reluctant nod, Simon chuckled knowingly before continuing. 

“Anyhow, Jim, how are you managing? I mean, I’m sincerely glad you two are working things out together again, and it must be so much better for you at home in the loft now. Senses-wise, I mean. I don’t want to know about your private lives! But I know that you weren’t using them much while Blair was keeping his distance, even if your arrest record was still pretty good. Will you be using them more again now he’s back?” 

Jim looked thoughtful for a moment, working on his answer. The trouble was that, although Simon - and Megan - were still the only two people in the PD who knew the truth about the whole sentinel deal, he and Blair had decided to keep their strange, one-sided telepathy to themselves. It wasn’t anyone else’s business that they had discovered a new level of mutual, non-verbal communication, and they certainly didn’t want to leave themselves open to studies and testing by possibly unscrupulous scientists. 

But then again, Jim knew Simon was a good friend who truly did want the best for him and Blair; even as he wouldn’t deny that fact that a fully-functional sentinel and guide team boosted his already good departmental stats. 

“Well, as to that, Simon,” he began slowly, “I’m not entirely certain just yet. I mean, Blair’s physical presence certainly does ground me, which is why I only used the senses to the max when he was with me, but I could always use them to a certain extent without him as long as I didn’t push too hard. He taught me how to control them, see. Dial them down….” 

At Simon’s perplexed expression, Jim had to grin before he continued. He realised that, even after all this time, Simon had never actually pushed him about the whole ‘sentinel voodoo shit’ as he called it, preferring to avoid uncomfortable details. And he was never going to come to terms with the whole fountain episode, for sure. As far as Simon was concerned, Blair’s resurrection was nothing short of a miracle, and he wasn’t going to question it any further. And who could blame him, since even now Jim himself found the whole ‘spiritual plane’ business so hard to deal with? But Simon deserved some sort of explanation, so he did the best he could to provide it. 

“Do you recall the case involving Angie Ferris, Simon? I mean, the fact that Blair helped me so much even though he got knocked out twice for his efforts?” 

Easily recalling the case of the singer, her daughter and their obsessed stalker, Simon nodded. “Yeah. You always said that I never gave the kid due credit for his part in that whole nasty business. But what else did he do for you then?” 

“Well, I had this superficial cut, see, and it was hurting far more than it should have been. I mean, really, distractingly painful. Anyhow, inspiration apparently struck, and Blair had an idea as to how I could control the pain level. He’s always been good at coming up with answers seemingly out of nowhere, for which I’m heartily grateful even if I’ve never been that good at telling him so. 

“See, he told me to think about assigning each sense a dial. Like on an old-style radio. And talked me through how to dial each one down to an acceptable level. I thought he was completely nutso, but I tried it anyway, and it worked! Ever since then I’ve practiced pretty much daily, so it’s become automatic now. Second nature. I keep them dialled down to normal levels until I need them, and as I say, never turn them up to the max without him.” 

Looking thoughtful, Simon rubbed his chin for a moment before speaking. “So you’re saying that he’s the only one who can really support you in all ways. Not only physically, but insofar as he instinctively understands where you’re coming from, and knows what to do about it. And I don’t just mean the zoning thing either. I don’t think I’ve ever really appreciated just how important he is to you. Or given him credit for his commitment and his suggestions, especially when they seem to come from left field. I’ve just learned to accept him, and like him, for who he is. 

“But will the fact that he can’t speak make a significant difference to your performance? Do you need to hear his spoken words in order to function effectively, or will his touch do?” 

“As to that, Simon, I can’t say for sure yet. I mean, at the loft, his touch is all I need. But who’s to say if that will work in extreme situations? All I can say is that I’ll try, and I will definitely keep using the senses as much as possible from now on.” 

“That’s all I need to know for now, Jim, and thanks for being so forthcoming with me. As I said, your arrest and conviction record is still higher than anyone else’s in the department, so any further improvement will be a nice bonus. And it goes without saying that you’re much nicer person to know when you have Blair in your life!” 

“Thanks, I think!” Jim responded wryly. “So, anything new for me?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at his smirking boss. 

“Well, as you mention it, Detective, there is this one,” Simon replied, pulling a file towards him. 

It was back to business as usual in Major Crimes. 

To be continued.  



	2. Prompt - Twenty-four hours to live

**Chapter 2 – Prompt – Twenty-four hours to live.**   
**Later that morning, the loft:**   


Blair pushed his spectacles further up his nose as he concentrated on the screen of his laptop. He was taking the opportunity to work on an article for ‘The Forensic Examiner’ magazine in Jim’s absence; although he had to admit that he’d rather be at the PD, close to his sentinel and now lover even if no longer specifically attached to Major Crimes. He had grown to truly enjoy his role as consultant Forensic Anthropologist after finally achieving his doctorate, and he knew he had much to be grateful for, even if things hadn’t turned out quite the way he had fondly envisaged in the past when he was younger and so much more naïve. 

Yes, for sure he would have loved to have earned his PhD with the ‘Sentinel’ paper, but in all honesty, the dreadful ‘diss mess’ notwithstanding, it wouldn’t have been ethically correct. He had long ago lost his objectivity as far as Jim was concerned, and he knew it. 

But despite everything, things had turned out well after all. He had gained his degree with his alternative paper, and had received a somewhat grudging apology from Rainier for wrongful dismissal as well as a reasonable settlement from Berkshire Publishing for leaking his intellectual property without consent. Not only that, but he had subsequently been offered and had accepted an official consultancy role at the PD. And best of all, he and Jim were together again, even if it had taken a desperately traumatic event to pave the way for their deeper relationship. 

Of course, he could definitely have done without the pain of his injuries, and the fact that he still couldn’t speak was a huge disappointment. But when all was said and done, his body was healing well now, and was nearly back to full strength. And although he dearly missed his ability to talk, the fact that he and Jim could still communicate so well made up for it to a great extent. 

And of course, the love they now shared, plus the ever more active and enjoyable sex they indulged in couldn’t be better. 

Realising that his concentration had lapsed in favour of contemplating his recent life changes, he saved his work with an exasperated sigh, and sat back, stretching his back and shoulders carefully to ease still tender muscles cramped from sitting for too long at the kitchen table. 

No, he couldn’t wait to get the last of his stitches removed and get his physical over with. He needed to get out of the loft and back to work before he drove Jim crazy. The poor guy was being so patient with Blair’s grumping about his prolonged recuperation confined mostly to the loft, and Blair loved him for it even as he knew he would try and make up for his irritable temper tonight with the nice dinner he was intending to cook, plus some make-up sex. Jim was the most considerate lover he had ever had, and he appreciated it more than he could say. 

Smiling softly now, Blair shut down his laptop and eased himself to his feet, intending to sort out the ingredients he needed for the home-made lasagne Jim liked so much. At least now he could enjoy the food himself since his gut was pretty much back to normal, thank the goddess. The liquid diet he had been forced to adopt had been flavourless and unsatisfying, little improved upon once he had been able to gradually introduce soft, bland foods, but now he could join Jim in a proper shared meal as long as he was sensible. 

As he opened cupboards and pulled out lasagne sheets, chopped tomatoes and passata, he hummed softly to himself. It comforted him to know that he could make such sounds even if he couldn’t articulate words, as he was convinced that eventually the ‘fried circuits’ in his brain would heal and reconnect to allow him to speak again. Although he certainly had days when he felt despondent and depressed, in general he had always been a ‘glass half full’ kind of guy, and his optimism was still more or less intact despite everything he had been through, as was his intellect. 

And of course, now he had his own cheerleader in Jim, whose constant love and support could always be relied upon to buoy him up when he felt down. He’d never had that sort of support before, even from his own mother, and he felt like one lucky guy. 

Frowning as his thoughts turned to Naomi; he wondered where she was now. She had made herself scarce immediately after the ‘badge’ offer, declaring that she needed to process, and get over her guilt at setting the whole dissertation disaster in motion, and he hadn’t heard from her since. Certainly it wasn’t unheard of for her to stay away for prolonged periods, but he huffed resignedly as he realised that she didn’t know that he hadn’t accepted the offer after all, let alone know that he now worked officially as a consultant and fully-fledged Doctor of Anthropology. She probably couldn’t bear the thought that her free-spirited ‘child of the world’ might even now be a detective, and he snickered at the thought that what he was really doing wouldn’t be much better in her eyes. The ‘pigs’ were the ‘pigs’ to her, and always would be. 

Contemplating Naomi and parents in general led inevitably to grim thoughts about William Ellison, and Blair’s frown deepened as he considered Jim’s father. He tried not to think about him if he could, to be sure, because the topic was truly painful, but sometimes, like now, it snuck up on him out of the blue. 

He had thought that William had begun to accept him as Jim’s unofficial police partner after they had rescued him from his would-be murderer, especially as Blair had made every effort to encourage Jim to re-establish connections with both William and his brother Steven. But when the shit hit the fan with the leaked diss, William had been more than furious with the fallout, and how it had affected his family. Pestered by the media, he had turned on Blair, accusing him of wantonly and deliberately destroying Jim’s life and reputation, and his family’s with it. It was only through Jim’s intervention that his father had agreed to come to Blair’s aid, and Blair was ashamed to think that at the time he had believed it was because William had forgiven him after all. If he had only known that the man was acting under duress, he would never have accepted the financial and legal support Ellison senior had provided, all because his son had insisted that he still needed his guide. 

Later, realising that William hadn’t forgiven him at all, and still blamed him for almost ruining Jim’s life, he had tried to give Jim some space even though it broke his heart to do so. But after the shooting, when Jim had declared his love for Blair and taken him home to the loft, William had been apoplectic when he had burst in on them together, and Blair still felt the full, painful impact of the man’s fury and disgust directed at him. Shuddering at the remembered image, and swallowing around the lump of emotion that had suddenly formed in his throat, he scolded himself for pursuing such an unpleasant train of thought, telling himself that it did no good picking at the barely scabbed-over psychological wounds the older man had inflicted upon him. It was what it was, and he had to let it go. 

Jim and he belonged together, end of story. 

Determinedly concentrating on preparing the ingredients for the sauce, he was surprised when there was a sharp knock on the door. He wasn’t expecting any visitors, and as far as he knew, there were no deliveries due, so he deliberately left the chain in place as he cracked open the door. 

To see William Ellison standing there, grim-faced and apparently alone. 

The last thing Blair wanted was to let the man in, but he didn’t really see what else he could do. When all was said and done, it was still Jim’s father in the hallway, and Blair didn’t think he had the right to deny the man admittance. With a sigh of resignation, he unlatched the chain and opened the door fully, and that was when he realised his mistake. William wasn’t alone after all, and two heavily muscled men stepped out from where they had been concealed on either side of the doorway, shoving into the loft and knocking an unbalanced Blair from his feet. Unable to struggle effectively in his still weakened condition, and unable to shout for help as a bag was pulled over his head, Blair was helpless to prevent the sting of a hypodermic jabbing his neck, his last coherent thought a mental scream for his sentinel. 

_‘Jim! JIM! Help me, please…!’_  


\---------------------------------------  


In the bullpen, Jim dropped the pen he had been using to sign off a completed report, straightening abruptly in his seat as his mind registered Blair’s mental plea for help. It was faint, like a far distant audible cry would be to sentinel hearing, but it was definitely there. Jumping to his feet, he thought fleetingly that he and Blair had wondered just what ‘range’ their telepathic communication had. Well, now he knew, because he was certain that Blair had been at home in the loft when he had sent that plea, just as he was certain that his guide was no longer there, or at least unable to communicate further. Which meant that Blair was unconscious. 

But not dead. Please, not dead. _I’d know if he was. I’d KNOW!_ Jim told himself firmly as he sprang to his feet and hurried to Simon’s office, unmindful of the worried and inquisitive looks that tracked his progress across the bullpen. 

Bursting into the office unannounced, he growled out, “Blair’s in trouble. I’m going to the loft!” 

To his credit, Simon didn’t even attempt to argue. He had no idea how, but if Jim said there was something wrong with Blair, he wasn’t going to question it. As far as he was concerned, it was probably just one more aspect of the weird sentinel voodoo shit, but in the meantime, no way was he going to let Jim go off alone. 

“OK, Jim. Let’s go,” he snapped. “And I’m driving, man! I want to get there in one piece, and you’re no good to Blair wrapped around a lamppost!”  


\---------------------------------  


Shortly afterwards, even though it felt like an eternity to the distraught sentinel, Simon pulled up outside 852 Prospect, and the two men hurried inside. Eschewing the cranky elevator in the desire for speed, they sprinted up the stairs and ran to the door of #307, to find it pulled closed but unlocked. Pausing outside, guns drawn, Simon whispered, “Do you hear anything, Jim? Anyone inside?” 

“No, Simon. No one,” Jim replied grimly as he pushed open the door to the empty apartment. “But there were at least three people here recently, apart from Blair.” 

Watching intently as Jim’s nostrils flared delicately, Simon murmured, “Who was it, Jim? Can you tell?” 

After a moment, Jim carefully dialled back his sense of smell and looked at his boss and friend, his expression dark and angry. “Two of the scents are unknowns, but I know the third. My father. William Ellison. But what the hell he was doing here, I hardly dare guess. But Blair was frightened, Simon. And I can smell the tang of something chemical. I think he’s been drugged and abducted, but the gods only know why!” 

“Dammit! Why can’t the kid catch a break!” growled Simon, his own face reflecting Jim’s anger and frustration. “But pray god we have at least that twenty-four hour window to work in.” 

Jim nodded sharply, almost scared to think about what his captain was implying. It was generally believed by law enforcement officers and profilers alike that any ransom demands for kidnap victims were usually made within the first twenty-four hours after their capture. And that if none were forthcoming within that time, then the victim was probably already dead. 

Jim prayed fervently that his guide and lover still had time. Still had at least twenty-four hours to live. 

_I’m coming, baby!_ he thought. _Somehow, I’ll find you! And when I do, Dad is going to pay!_  



	3. Prompt - Most Wanted

**Chapter 3: Prompt – Most Wanted:**   


The first port of call for the two men was William Ellison’s house, although Jim didn’t really expect him to be there. On the drive over, Simon called in Blair’s probable abduction, and ordered a forensics team to scour the loft. It was unlikely that they’d find much more trace evidence than Jim already had, but it was best to cover all bases. He also put out an APB on Blair, knowing that there were many in the PD, and among his people in MCU in particular, who cared very much for their young consultant, and who would go the extra mile to find him. 

Once his calls had been made on the hands-free, he concentrated on his driving, knowing that the man sitting beside him was strung tighter than a bowstring. Glancing over at the patrician profile, and seeing the twitching jaw muscle that testified to Jim’s fury and tension, he felt compelled to check on his friend’s state of mind. 

“Are you OK, Jim?” he asked quietly. “I mean, obviously I know you’re not insofar as you’re scared for Blair’s sake. But will you be able to restrain yourself if your father’s at home? I don’t want to run your ass in for attempted patricide, man. Blair needs you free and able to search for him.” 

For a moment he was tempted to turn around in the road, the look he received in response to his query being so murderous, but with a huge effort of will, Jim seemed to get himself under control. 

“Yes. For Blair’s sake, I’ll behave. I know he needs me, so I won’t do anything to jeopardise that. But I swear, Simon, that if Dad’s involved in Blair’s disappearance, I won’t rest until I bring him to justice. 

“And if Blair’s hurt because of him, then nothing will save him!” 

Simon had to contain a shudder at the cold, implacable resolution in the steely blue eyes. He didn’t see this side of Jim often, and had the fanciful notion that it was the primal sentinel within bound and determined to either rescue or seek vengeance for his mate. 

“Fair enough, Jim,” he finally replied, hoping that he could trust the sentinel to keep his word under severe provocation. “We’re nearly there, and the backup unit should be arriving anytime now. Can you hear anything? I mean, on the off-chance that Blair’s there?” 

Jim concentrated hard, winding the window down and pinching his thigh to split his attention and ward off any likelihood of zoning. That was the last thing he needed. After a pause, he muttered, “No, Simon. He’s not there. But my father is, and so is Sally, his housekeeper. And that’s all.” 

Pulling up outside the Ellison mansion, just seconds before the patrol unit pulled in behind them, Simon turned to his friend and subordinate, his expression and tone commanding attention. 

“OK, Jim. Let’s go. But remember what you promised, OK? There’s still a possibility that your father had nothing to do with Blair’s disappearance. He might have already left the loft by the time Blair was grabbed, so just bear that in mind.” 

Plainly unconvinced, Jim merely growled, “If you say so, sir. But I’ll know soon enough if he’s lying!” 

“That you will, my friend,” replied Simon understandingly. “So let’s do this.” 

Instructing the two uniformed officers to wait outside until summoned, Simon and Jim approached the front door, Jim barely containing his impatience. Since he already knew that William didn’t have Blair here, he needed to pump his father for information as to where he had stashed his guide. Any clue would help, and please god, if Blair was conscious, perhaps he would be able to contact Jim telepathically when they were within range, so to speak. 

He could but hope. 

As Jim rang the doorbell, it opened to reveal Sally, William’s diminutive housekeeper, who had served him loyally for so many years, and had acted as a surrogate mother to Jim and his little brother. Jim was more than fond of the small, kind-hearted powerhouse, and didn’t want to hurt her more than he had to. However, his business with his father was urgent, and he had little time to sooth her feelings. 

Her face wreathed in smiles, Sally greeted him happily. “Mr Jim! Jimmy! How wonderful to see you! Come in, come in. I’m sure your father will be so happy!” 

However, her face fell in consternation when Jim failed to respond to her cheerful welcome. 

“I doubt that, Sally. I doubt that very much!” he ground out, peering over her shoulder to glare at his father, who had just emerged from his den. 

“Where is he, Dad? What have you done with Blair?” And without further ado he stepped around Sally and approached William, the threat of death and destruction in his cold-eyed stare. 

As Sally looked on aghast, Simon quickly caught up with Jim, ready to step in if necessary if things got physical. 

“Mr Ellison. You know me. Captain Simon Banks, Major Crimes. If you have any knowledge whatsoever about the disappearance of Dr Sandburg, I suggest you offer it right now.” 

“I don’t know what you mean, Jimmy. And what do you mean by forcing your way into my house like this, Captain Banks? I have no idea what you’re talking about! Get out at once!” 

William drew himself up stiffly and glared right back at them, prepared to bluster his way out of this if humanly possible. He had a reputation in the business community which he trusted would stand him in good stead if it came down to unfounded accusations. 

However, he had chosen to ignore or forget just how good were his son’s senses when it came down to reading his physiological responses, and that was to be his downfall. Consequently, he looked on with growing unease as Jim got right up into his personal space, intimidating the older man with his sheer physical presence and stone-cold demeanour. 

“No, _Dad!_ We’re going nowhere until you tell me everything you know about Blair! Don’t you realise that I can scent you? That I know your scent almost as well as I know my own? You were at the loft around the time when Blair disappeared, _Dad_. And right now, for all your bluff and bravado, your heart is hammering, and I can see the sweat beading your hairline. 

“See, _Dad,_ these freaky senses are good for something after all! You’re lying through your teeth, and I know it!” 

To give him his due, William didn’t cower or back down immediately, even though he realised that the game was up as far as his son was concerned. Instead, he met Jim’s gaze with a stubborn one of his own before responding stiffly, “All right. I’ll tell you what I did, and why I did it. You might not see it the way I do, Jimmy, but it was for your own good. Everything I’ve ever done has been for yours and Steven’s sakes. Come into the den – you too, Captain Banks – and I’ll tell you what I know.” 

So saying, he turned his back on the two men, and retraced his steps to the den, spine and shoulders rigid in tightly-controlled disapproval. Seating himself on one of the luxurious leather armchairs, he waved his hand imperiously at his visitors, indicating that they also take a seat. Once they had done so, he looked from one to the other, his gaze unflinching as he began his explanation, and even Jim felt a trace of reluctant admiration for his father’s arrogant self-assurance. 

“The first thing you need to know, Jimmy, is that I never intended Sandburg any physical harm. Not for his sake, you understand, but because I realise that for some reason you are fond of him. _More_ than fond, if what I saw in your apartment the other day was anything to go by!” he added, disgust and disdain uppermost in his expression and tone. 

“But I also believe that it is because of his unnatural influence on you. That boy knows exactly how to play you. How to manipulate your ‘gift’. Always has. And that was the only reason I bailed him out after he betrayed you with that leaked dissertation. Now I know you said it was his mother’s doing,” he went on quickly, when it was obvious that Jim was going to interrupt. “But I think differently. He shouldn’t have been writing about you in the first place. But you said you needed him because of your senses, so I was prepared to help restore his reputation for your sake and for the sake of our family name. 

“But it was always with the proviso that he kept away from you. Kept you at arm’s length until you needed him for whatever he does for you at work. 

“And then he got himself shot, and you ran to his bedside. And worse, took him home with you again. And what you two have between you now, I don’t want to know. I only know that it has to stop, and that’s what I told Sandburg. As long as he agrees to leave you alone - to leave Cascade – I’ll pay him a decent settlement and get him as far away from you as possible. 

“Because if he doesn’t, then I told him that I would make sure that everyone to the highest levels in the PD knows exactly what you two are, and I don’t just mean queer! If he wants to protect you, he has to go!” 

Way past the stage of incandescent fury, Jim shook his head slowly from side to side as he stared disbelievingly at his unrepentant parent. But the utter contempt and disgust in his voice was chilling as he murmured softly but forcefully, “You bastard! You absolute and utter bastard! I despise you, you selfish, self-centred asshole! You know nothing about what Blair means to me. You might say that you have my good at heart when you do such things, but that’s not true, is it? It’s all for you. For the Ellison family’s reputation. You’ve never accepted me for what I am, whatever you’ve said in the past. It’s always been about you. 

“Well, let me tell you, I’m not falling for it. Not any of your self-righteous, lying declarations. You either tell us where Blair is, or I swear to god I’ll kill you! Maybe not today, but you’ll never know when to expect it, _Daddy dearest!_ If any harm comes to Blair because of your machinations, you’ll pay!” 

The horrified expression on William’s face told Jim and Simon that his words had finally hit home, and the man truly realised the danger he was in. 

“You – you can’t say those sort of things to me, Jimmy! I’m you father!” he blustered. “And you, Captain! You heard him. You heard his threats!” 

Assuming an insouciant air, Simon replied, “Me? I didn’t hear anything untoward, Mr Ellison. Except when you admitted to threatening my friend and consultant, Dr Sandburg!” he continued, his face darkening in anger. 

“I suggest you tell us where he is, and who has him, right now!” 

Rubbing his face with a shaky hand, William finally looked up again, his eyes telegraphing his fear and surrender as he muttered, “All right! All right!! I’ll tell you the rest, but it won’t get Sandburg back any quicker. 

“Yes, I hired a couple of men to kidnap Sandburg at the loft. I told them to make sure he was unconscious even though I understand that he can’t speak now. When he let me in, they injected him with some sort of temporary sedative, enough so we could get him out of the building and away without trouble. When he came round, I told him what was required of him, and then left the hired help to take him away to their hideout while I drove back here. I didn’t ask where it was, because I didn’t want to know, except that it’s somewhere in the Cascade National Forest. 

“I didn’t expect you to have noticed his disappearance quite so soon, but Sandburg has until tomorrow morning to make his decision, and if he makes the wrong one, then on his own head be it. I told the men to wait for my call, and after that they will do what’s necessary. 

_“Whatever’s_ necessary,” he repeated, emphasising his point. 

As Jim ground his teeth in fury, fists clenching and unclenching in his effort not to wring his father’s neck there and then, Simon leant forward, almost snarling at the shaken man before him. “Their names! What are their names?” 

“I…I don’t know!” William almost whined. “I didn’t want to know! I placed an advertisement on a website I was recommended by a friend at the Country Club, and they replied. I only know them as Sid and Frank, but I suppose those aren’t their real names.” 

“What website, and who recommended it?” growled Jim. “Tell us now!” 

Straightening up, William shook his head obdurately. “No, Jimmy. The website is an obscure one called ‘Muscle for Hire’, but I won’t give out my friend’s name. That’s all I’m saying.” 

Realising that that was all they were going to get, Jim and Simon shared a speaking glance before Simon addressed William again. 

“Mr Ellison, I’m placing you under arrest for the abduction of Dr Blair Sandburg. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say…” and at that point Jim tuned out the rest of the Miranda, stalking from the room to summon the uniforms to take his father downtown for booking. 

He neither knew nor cared how long his father would remain in custody before his high-class lawyer sprung him. The fact that William Ellison had been arrested in the first place would be a heavy blow to the self-important businessman, and right now the only thing that mattered was tracing the goons who still had Blair. 

And making sure that his father made that all-important call in the morning if they hadn’t found the hideout by then.  


\---------------------------------  


As he and Simon drove back to the PD, following the unit bearing William Ellison, Jim slapped the dashboard in frustration. 

“Why, Simon? Why can’t I protect him? Every time he’s been there for me, and so many times I’ve either let him down or pushed him aside. What’s _wrong_ with me?” 

“Only you can answer that, my friend,” Simon answered quietly. “All I can and will say is that for all the times you’ve let him down, there are others when you’ve come through for him. Maybe not as often as you should, but now you accept it, you can do something about it. And you know that the kid’ll always forgive you whatever.” 

“Well, maybe he shouldn’t,” Jim muttered. “Maybe he should just walk away. But god, Simon. If he did, I don’t think I’d want to go on!” 

“I don’t want to think that it would go that far, Jim,” Simon replied, the concern in his voice clear. “But let’s get him back safe and sound, and you can discuss it further, OK? Don’t borrow trouble, man.” 

Nodding stiffly, Jim turned to stare out of the passenger window, his thoughts racing and jumping from one scenario to another where he felt he’d let Blair down. 

Blair poisoned. Blair shot. Blair jumping out of a perfectly good aeroplane just to back Jim up. Blair unfairly accused of betrayal, and then betrayed himself by Jim. The list went on, and didn’t stop with the Alex business. Even after the evil female sentinel had drowned Blair and Jim had brought him back, he had continued to push him away, afraid to let him close for fear of the intimacy he couldn’t stomach. For god’s sake, he had even chosen to work with a hardened criminal rather than his so-called partner, leaving Blair vulnerable yet again. And Jim shuddered at the memory of him and Harry Conkle returning to Conkle’s daughter’s apartment to find his guide slumped unconscious in an armchair. For a terrible moment Jim had thought Blair was actually dead, he was so pale and still, and it was only the evidence of sentinel hearing that had reassured him that Blair had been gassed instead. The relief when he had awoken to Jim gently slapping his face had been almost overwhelming, but still Jim couldn’t take that final step. 

Couldn’t take that trip. 

And when the diss was leaked shortly afterwards, who had accused Blair of selling him out and going for the brass ring? 

And now, just as he had finally had the guts to confess to Blair how much he wanted and needed him in his life, his thrice-damned father had interfered, and perhaps this time Blair would truly pay with his life.  



	4. Prompt - After Midnight

**Chapter 4: Prompt – After midnight:**  


**Somewhere in the Cascade National Forest:**  


Once again Blair rose slowly to semi-consciousness, as he had done on and off ever since his abduction from the loft. Whatever it was that he had been injected with was enough to leave him muzzy-headed and faintly nauseous whenever he came around, but this time he felt marginally less muddled, so perhaps the drug was finally working its way out of his system. Having said that, his arms and shoulders were now screaming at him in agony at being stuck in the same position for too long, hands cuffed behind his back, and lying on his side on some sort of hard cot. 

Fighting to suppress the moan that wanted to escape from his throat, he tried to wriggle himself into a slightly different position to ease the strain on his abused muscles a little, at the same time taking stock of his current situation and listening carefully for any sound of approaching feet. He certainly didn’t want to draw attention to himself if he could help it, not knowing if his captors were in close proximity, but had to risk it if his still tender and barely healed right shoulder wasn’t to seize up altogether. 

After a minute or so, he managed to shift enough to ease the pressure a little, and as there had been no adverse reaction, he guessed with no little relief that he was alone and safe enough for the time being. 

But where he was, he still had no idea. 

Breathing deeply to keep the nausea at bay, he forced himself to concentrate on his present condition, and also ponder on how he had gotten here – wherever ‘here’ was – with the small amount of information he had. Which wasn’t much, considering he’d been hooded and cuffed from the moment of his capture, and still was. But at least he hadn’t been gagged, and he supposed rather cynically that it hadn’t been considered necessary since he couldn’t speak anyway. 

Then again, his gradually clearing brain reminded him that the hood was actually a good thing. The fact that he hadn’t had time to see anyone’s face except William Ellison’s meant that he couldn’t ID the two goons who had apparently been charged with holding him, so perhaps there was a fair chance that he would be released after all if he did what Jim’s Dad wanted. He had to hold on to that hope, even as he tried to piece together the events of the past few hours. 

Thinking back, he berated himself yet again for opening the door to William, but what was done was done, and there was no point in wasting time and energy on self-flagellation. More important was recalling coming around long enough to hear William’s terms and conditions, even if he had been too woozy to really take everything in at the time. All he knew was that Ellison senior wanted him out of Jim’s life for good, and if he refused, then they would both suffer the consequences. 

Neither ready nor willing to contemplate his decision just then, he turned his attention instead to the more mundane task of piecing together what he could about his captors in case it would be of use if – _when_ – he was either rescued or released. 

Because he had to believe that Jim would find him. He didn’t dare give up hope yet for both their sakes. 

Although he had been out for the count when being taken from the loft, he knew that he must have been bundled into the back of some sort of vehicle and driven to some pre-arranged location before waking enough to hear William’s menacing voice in his ear. And now it occurred to Blair that he must have made some sort of mute response after all, because the man had moved away, and the car started again. After that he had faded out for a while, and consequently had no idea how long or how far they had travelled before he woke again. And of course, he had seen nothing at all. 

What he did know was that they had finally pulled up somewhere some distance from Cascade, judging by the lack of traffic noise and other related urban sounds and smells, and he had discerned from the natural, woodsy scents seeping into the car that it must be somewhere in a forested area. And he had immediately been terrified that he was about to be murdered and buried out here in the wild after all. 

However, instead, he had been pulled out of the back of the vehicle and been half-dragged, half-carried into some sort of cabin where he was forced to lie on a cot in what he thought might be a small side room; still bound and helpless, but at least still alive. 

Although he had continued to fade in and out of consciousness, he recalled that at some point one of his captors had silently raised the edge of the thick hood just enough to allow him to drink some water, and the same man had also helped him to visit an outhouse where his hands had been released from the cuffs long enough for Blair to take care of business, for which his stressed bladder was extremely grateful. 

But other than that, no one addressed him directly or interacted with him at all, just talked quietly between themselves in another part of the building, mostly out of Blair’s hearing. 

Now, however, he could hear nothing at all, so surmised that he had been left alone. But for how long, he had no idea. Surely it had to be well after midnight by now, though. Meaning that he didn’t have long before he would have to come up with his response to William’s demands. 

And that was going to break his heart, and possibly Jim’s too. But there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his sentinel lover, still believing that of the pair of them, it was Jim who was the indispensible partner. 

He had absolutely no reason to doubt William’s determination to carry out his threat to ‘out’ Jim as a sentinel if Blair refused to cooperate, even if he found it almost impossible to understand how the man could be so cold and calculating. He had insisted that he only had his son’s welfare at heart, but how could that be if he was prepared to resurrect that whole dissertation fiasco again, and destroy Jim’s life and career just because he hated Blair and Blair’s perceived influence? He must know that Blair wouldn’t allow that to happen, and was banking on his capitulation. 

Then again, perhaps it was much simpler than that after all, and his threat to expose Jim was just that. A threat to convince Blair to respond as expected, and if for some reason he failed to do so, he would be signing his own death warrant. 

Whatever the case, Blair was left with no choice if he wanted to survive this whole situation. 

Unless Jim got to him first. 

Suddenly he stiffened anxiously as he heard a door open, and his two captors entered the cabin, their booted feet clumping on the bare wooden floor. This time they made no attempt to keep their voices down, and it occurred to Blair that they had been out for a while, and during their absence, had come to some sort of decision regarding his fate. 

Breathing as steadily and slowly as he could, and trying to ignore his hammering heart, he stayed as still as possible in the hope that they would think he was still sleeping off the remaining effects of the drugs while concentrating with everything he had on their words. 

From what little he had heard of their voices so far, he had tentatively identified one of them as the more considerate one who had offered him water, while mentally labelling the other one as simply ‘indifferent’. After all, apart from the initial manhandling at the loft, neither of them had deliberately hurt him any more than could be helped under the circumstances. 

He believed it was the ‘considerate’ one who was currently speaking, and his words caused Blair’s hopes to rise tentatively. 

“Look, man, I’ve been thinking about this. I’m worried that this isn’t such a straight-forward guarding job after all, and I didn’t sign up for a whole lot of grief. I’m no killer, and I don’t want to have this guy’s blood on my hands if Ellison decides to get rid of him after all. We’ve got the first $40k now, so I say let’s take it and run.” 

“Yeah, but it could be a whole lot more, Sid. We’re looking at another $60k on finishing the job, however it goes. Don’t you want your share of that?” 

“Not if it means cold-blooded murder, Frankie-boy. You wanna be hunted down for that? Or even as a kidnapper? It’s not worth it, man! Think! We still got $20k each, and it’s not like he can ID us anyhow. I say we just leave him here, and if he’s found, so what? What can he do? He can’t even talk! 

“Come on, man! Let’s get out of here while we can. Leave Ellison to take care of his own shit.” 

Blair held his breath, willing the other man to accede. _Oh, please! Please listen, man. Please just leave me here alive!_

It seemed to Blair to take forever until ‘Frank’ responded reluctantly, but when he did, Blair was hard put not to sigh aloud in relief. 

“Yeah, OK. I guess it makes sense. I mean, I’m not as squeamish as you, but this guy works with the police, and I know how they react when one of their own gets topped. It’s not worth the risk. 

“Let’s get moving before I change my mind, huh? While he’s still out for the count.” 

Forcing himself to remain motionless while the two men exited the cabin, Blair waited until his straining ears heard them drive away before releasing the breath he didn’t even realise he was holding with a whoosh of pure relief. However, he stayed still for a few minutes longer, just to make sure they didn’t return before turning his attention to trying to escape his prison. 

Slowly and carefully he eased his aching body into a sitting position, sideways on the cot with his feet on the floor. He gave himself a moment to gather himself together for the next effort, which would entail him sliding his cuffed hands beneath his bottom and around his legs to bring his hands in front of him. Normally he was easily limber enough for such a manoeuvre, but he knew his still healing body was going to complain, especially after being trussed up for so long in one position. 

But it had to be done, so taking a deep, calming breath, he eased his shoulders down and his torso forward, trying not to gasp in shock at the sharp stab of agony the movement elicited as his hands slid under his buttocks until he was gripping the backs of his thighs. Panting through the pain, he paused for a few seconds before bringing first one leg, and then the other through and back, groaning in relief as he finally sat up, his hands in front of him at last. It was another few seconds until he could raise them enough to pull the hood from his head, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior of his prison. 

Although it was still plainly night time, there was just enough moonlight seeping between the gaps in either ill-fitting curtains or shutters in the main room to enable Blair to get a rough impression of his surroundings. From what he could make out through the side room’s open doorway, the rest of cabin was bigger than he’d expected, but appeared to be very basic, and sparsely furnished from what he could make out. Probably a hunting retreat, he doubted if there would be anything here he could use to try and remove the cuffs, but that was of far less importance than actually being able to get out of the building. 

Standing unsteadily, he shuffled slowly towards the dimly outlined front door, hands held out in front of him to protect himself from unseen obstacles in his path. Unsurprisingly the door was locked, so he turned his attention to the nearest window. His questing fingers encountered rough material like sacking tacked unevenly around the frame, and it tore easily enough as he tugged at it to reveal a glazed window protected on the outside by some sort of wire mesh. However, he wasn’t too disheartened, believing that it was in such a state of disrepair that it shouldn’t be too hard to remove. Now all he needed was something with which to break the glass. 

He couldn’t believe his luck when he shuffled back to the table which stood to one side of the window and against the far wall, to find that his captors had left a flashlight there beside the remains of their last meal. They must have forgotten it in their hurry to leave, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Grinning like a loon, he flicked it on, and took a proper look at his surroundings. The cabin was every bit as dirty and decrepit as he’d thought, and he was sure now that escape through the window was feasible, if probably uncomfortable. 

For a brief moment he considered staying put until it was at least daylight, because he had no idea where he was, or which direction to take to get back to civilisation. Also it looked colder outside than in after all, and it was damp and chilled enough in the draughty, unheated cabin. But even if the goons had gone for good, who was to say that William Ellison might not come here himself when he got no response to his calls, and in his present condition, Blair wasn’t convinced that he could defend himself adequately from the angry older man, especially if William was armed. 

No, he had to leave, and now, and with that thought, he looked around quickly for something heavy enough to break the glass. Spotting a poker propped beside a rusty stove, he snatched it up and returned to the window, swinging it as hard as he could until he had shattered the panes before wrapping his hands with the curtain material so that he could safely pull out the remaining broken pieces. 

Removing the wire screen on the outside wasn’t such an easy task, but luckily it was indeed rusty enough to finally give way beneath Blair’s persistent tugging and shoving, and Blair allowed himself a little self-congratulation as he prepared to escape to freedom. 

The downside, unfortunately, was that Blair wasn’t in the greatest shape for a night-time, cross-country jaunt, and his clothing was pretty inadequate too. He was inordinately grateful that his captors had thought to shove his feet into a battered pair of sneakers, but apart from that, he was simply dressed in his oldest and most comfortable set of sweats, and little else. The only useful thing a search of the cabin turned up was the rough, moth-eaten blanket from the cot, so he grabbed that anyway, and dropped it out of the window along with the flashlight and a half-full bottle of water he found beside the cot. 

His cuffed hands made climbing through the window decidedly awkward, but he managed it without too much added discomfort, and draping the blanket around him as best he could, he picked up the water bottle and flashlight and set off down the muddy track leading away from the cabin without more ado.  


\-------------------------------------  


**Meanwhile, back at the PD:**  


Simon and Jim stood shoulder to shoulder, staring intently through the two-way mirror into the interview room next door. Simon could feel the tension rippling through his friend’s buff body, even as the ever-twitching jaw and grinding teeth evidenced the man’s impatience and frustration. And to be honest, it mirrored his own albeit to a far greater extent, because for sure he too was feeling increasing anxiety as to the whereabouts and state of health of Dr Blair Sandburg. As he stood there, he realised that Blair had become almost a second son to him, his actual son Daryl a firm admirer of the quirky anthropologist-turned–consultant, and understandably so. Blair had never denied Daryl access to his friendship, his advice and his encyclopaedic knowledge, and even though Simon was ashamed to admit that at one time he had been jealous of the two young persons’ connection, now he accepted it for the blessing that it was. Because for sure it had enhanced his own relationship with his son, and who could complain at that? 

But for now he had to concentrate on the interaction taking place on the other side of the glass, fervently hoping that he and Jim would soon know the whereabouts of their missing friend and partner. 

Both of them knew that they should involve the FBI, since that was SOP for kidnappings. But only too often such inter-agency operations between the PD and the ‘fibbies’ went pear-shaped, and neither he nor Jim wanted them to interfere in this one at this stage. 

He was well aware that Jim had wanted to conduct the interview with his father, but again both of them knew that it was impossible due to the family connection. Therefore Jim had reluctantly had to accept Joel Taggert as interviewer on this occasion, at least knowing full well that the competent and level-headed ex Bomb Squad captain had a genuine soft spot for Blair, and wouldn’t let anything slip by him that could endanger his young friend. 

One good thing was that, after consulting with his lawyer, William had agreed to cooperate fully in the investigation and rescue in return for leniency and a plea bargain should the case come to trial. Naturally Jim was incensed, and vehemently denied that his father should be allowed to get away with anything short of the full power of the law, but common sense told him otherwise. And thus it was that, with Joel listening intently, William was supplying them with every detail he could in order to facilitate Blair’s safe return. 

Although he still insisted he didn’t know their real names, William had provided a detailed description of his temporary employees, plus the plate number of their most recent vehicle to the best of his knowledge, so that Simon had been able to put out a state-wide APB in the hope that someone, somewhere would spot them. 

Unfortunately, William had also been forced to admit that the cell phones he had provided them with in order to keep in contact were single use, disposable ones, meant to be destroyed immediately after each call and therefore of little use in any attempt to trace their location. Any call made outside of the pre-arranged schedule would undoubtedly tip off the men that something was wrong, which would surely endanger Blair unnecessarily. 

In other words, unless MCU caught a lucky break and the goons and their hideout were noticed and reported in, Blair’s friends and colleagues were left with no other option but to wait on tenterhooks until the arranged time arrived for William to call his hired muscle in order to ascertain Blair’s response to his demands. 

When no such lucky break was forthcoming, after what seemed like an eternity to Jim and Simon, the time came for an exhausted and anxious William to make the call. Primed and ready to tell his men that he had decided to release Sandburg, although he would still honour their agreement, William punched in the number under the watchful eyes of Jim, Simon, Joel and his lawyer. 

Only to have it ring and ring unanswered before going dead, which was hardly surprising, since the instrument had been tossed unceremoniously out of the window of a beat-up Tahoe speeding on its way to Seattle.   



	5. Prompt - Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap, folks! And the completion of my second card. :)
> 
> Kate x

**Chapter 5: Prompt – Home.**   


**Simon Banks’ Office:**  


”What the hell happened? What are you playing at?” Jim’s furious growl echoed his colleagues’ anger and frustration as William stared at the dead cell phone in his hand as if it were a poisonous reptile. 

“I don’t know! I swear it!” the distraught older man replied, face haggard and drawn with lack of sleep and anxiety. “This was the pre-arranged time. 6.00 am! They should have responded! I don’t _know_ why they didn’t!” 

Ignoring Simon’s warning hand on his bicep, Jim leaned down to get right in his father’s face. He had not one iota of pity for his deeply shaken parent. As far as he was concerned, William deserved every bit of his pain and upset. Staring the man in the eye, his own expression colder than death, he hissed menacingly, “So your minions have decided to screw you, have they? Well, let me tell you right now, _Dad,_ that if Blair comes to any harm because of you and your hired thugs, _I WILL KILL YOU,_ understand?” 

Bart Anderson, William’s sharp-dressed, high-priced lawyer stepped forward, uncertain of what he had heard, but needing to clarify the situation before it got any worse. 

“Did you just threaten my client, Detective Ellison? What did you say?” 

Jim looked up, meeting his inquisitive gaze with a bland and steady one of his own. “Threat?” he replied mildly. “No, Mr Anderson. No threat. Just a promise!” and with that he stalked from the room, unwilling to spend another moment in close proximity to his father in case he gave in to his urge to break the older man’s neck. 

Out in the bullpen, Simon stood at Jim’s side, his own anger very much in evidence. Knowing he had the full attention of his people, he made an announcement there and then. 

“OK, people, this is where we stand. There was no response to Mr Ellison’s phone call.” The shocked and angry murmurs from his team broke out immediately, until he held up his hand to silence them. 

“So this is what we know. Or think we know. The hired goons who snatched and held Dr Sandburg failed to respond to the pre-arranged call. So presumably they have decided to either cut and run, and abandon their victim, or have taken him with them in order to score a better deal. 

“Or they’ve already killed him and disposed of the body,” he added quietly, his bitterness and pain blatantly obvious. 

“The thing is, people, that whatever the case - and I fervently believe that the last option is the worst case scenario and not the real one – we still have no idea of the location of their hideout. So unless and until we either get some outside information, or the kidnappers are apprehended because of the state-wide APB, we’re still none the wiser. 

“Now, some of you guys have been up all night on top of a full shift, so I want you to go home and get some rest. And when you get back in, I want you to chase down as many of your contacts, snitches, whatever, so we can make a concerted effort to find our missing friend. OK? And if we have to call in the FBI, then we will,” he added grimly. 

Needless to say, there were quite a few voices raised in objection, but Simon was obdurate. He himself had no intention of resting, and he knew Jim wouldn’t rest until Blair was found, one way or the other. But he needed the remainder of his people in reasonable working order. Not only did other cases keep rolling in, but Blair had been missing now for close on fifteen hours, and the clock was ticking.  


\----------------------------------  


**Meanwhile, somewhere in Cascade National Forest:**  


Blair plodded doggedly down the muddy and rutted track leading from the cabin, trying hard not to give in to his exhaustion and pain. He didn’t dare stray from the track, because the thought of being lost and helpless in the wilds of the national forest were frightening indeed, but he knew he had to stay on the alert just in case any of his kidnappers came to find him. Stumbling and tripping frequently, he felt as if he was reaching the end of his tether, but refused to give up. 

Although his body had thanked him earlier for the gift of movement after having been trussed up for so long, that time had long passed. This hard slog was very far from the gentle, easy exercise he and his physical therapist had envisaged on the way to full fitness, and it wasn’t made any easier by trying to hold on to flashlight, water bottle and blanket with cuffed hands. Having said that, he told himself firmly that it could be worse. At least it wasn’t raining, and in the dawn’s early light, he was able to switch off the flashlight and tuck it into the waistband of his sweats. 

But he had no idea how long he’d been walking for, and could only hope that, when he finally reached a proper road, it wouldn’t be too long before he could get a lift back to civilisation. 

And Jim. 

It gradually occurred to him, as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, that he had completely forgotten about his weird new communication skills. He hadn’t even attempted to ‘speak’ to Jim directly since his instinctive mental cry for help at the moment of his capture. Of course, he had no way of knowing whether Jim had received it, and wondered bleakly if it was a short-distance thing requiring the pair of them to be in close proximity so that he could hear Jim’s verbal response. 

Then again, their whole sentinel and guide connection had grown so much stronger since he had returned to the loft as Jim’s partner in all ways, so it was probably worth a try. Heck, it was no more stupid than talking aloud to himself, and he was ruefully aware that he’d always had a tendency to do that. 

Concentrating as hard as he could on visualising his lover’s beloved face, he began. 

_‘Hey, Jim, I’ve no idea if you can hear me, but I need you to know that I’m OK. So far, anyway. I have no idea where I am, except that I’m in the forest somewhere some distance from Cascade. I escaped from the cabin where I was being held. The two guys who were holding me decided to run for it, so I made the most of it and got out._

_‘But I gotta say, I’m not feeling too good, lover. I’m cold, hungry and everything’s hurting right now, but I won’t give up, I promise. Just need to get to a main road, and then pray that someone will give me a ride._

_‘Hope you can ‘hear’ me, babe, so you’ll know I’m still alive. I know you’re looking for me, lover. I’ll try to find a road sign or something so I can give you a better idea of where I am. Please hurry if you can._

_‘I think I’m getting near a road, Jim. Wish me luck that someone comes along soon!’_

He broke off his one-sided communication as he concentrated on his surroundings, hugely relieved to see the blacktop up ahead, but worried in case the first vehicle to arrive was one belonging to either his captors or William. It would be just his bad luck if he reached the road only to be picked up again immediately by the bad guys, so rather than walk along the edge of the asphalt, he kept closer to the bordering tree line for a while so that he could take cover if necessary. 

Of course, he had no idea whether or not he was headed in the right direction for Cascade, but right now that didn’t matter. Once he came across a recognisable road sign, he’d know for sure, and for now it was enough to be relatively out in the open. 

After a few more minutes’ walking with no traffic in sight, he continued with his mental messaging. 

_‘No luck so far, Jim. I don’t think this is a very well-used road. At least, not at this time in the morning. I’ll just keep plodding on until I either see some habitation, or a road sign so I can tell you where I am. Nothing so far, man, except a whole lot of trees as far as the eye can see. Well, my eyes, anyhow, Big Guy, which isn’t saying much! Hold on. I think there’s something coming…’_

Hovering nervously between the roadside and the trees, just in case he needed to dive under cover, Blair strained his eyes to make out what sort of vehicle he could hear approaching. It certainly wasn’t a truck, which was a shame, because he had never had any trouble hitching rides from sympathetic truckers as a penniless student, and he was worried that other road users might drive right on by due to his disreputable state. Then his heart leapt with joy as he made out the outline and paint job of a State Trooper’s unit. Hell, he wouldn’t even care if he was arrested for vagrancy as long as the guy stopped for him, so he staggered out into the middle of the road, waving his arms as best he could. 

Sure enough, the unit pulled up before him, the occupant scrutinising him carefully from a frowning face. The trooper was a middle-aged, somewhat corpulent African American, and as he climbed out of his vehicle, his hand hovered over his holstered sidearm. 

Blair kept his hands raised where the trooper could see them, smiling widely and trying to look as unthreatening as he could, ragged appearance and handcuffs notwithstanding. 

“What are you doing alone out here, fella?” the trooper addressed him in a rich, melodious voice. “Have you escaped from somewhere, huh? How come the cuffs, man?” 

Greatly daring, Blair pointed to his mouth, shaking his head, trying to convey the fact that he was mute. The big man stared suspiciously at him for a moment, then said, “What are you telling me? That you can’t talk?” 

Blair nodded enthusiastically, holding the man’s gaze with as innocent and open an expression as he could. Jim would have recognised the look as full-on puppy dog eyes, and luckily they seemed to have a satisfactory effect on the trooper. 

“OK, then. Get in the car, fella, but no funny business, all right? I’m leaving those cuffs on for a while until I know a bit more about you, but you’re freezing your ass off out here. Come on.” 

Nodding happily again, Blair did as he was bid, and slid into the car, quite unable to prevent his deep sigh of relief as his battered body relaxed into the seat. 

When the trooper climbed in beside him, Blair smiled at him again and made writing motions with his hands. 

“You want a pen and pad, huh?” his rescuer replied. “Guess I can do that. Here ya go, fella,” and he handed over the required objects, watching carefully as Blair scribbled as fast and as clearly as he could considering his cold hands. When he’d finished, the trooper read what he had written, and nodded agreeably. 

“So, you say you’re this Dr Sandburg, and that you were kidnapped yesterday from Cascade, right? And this number is for Captain Banks of Cascade PD’s Major Crimes Unit. There’s an APB been put out on you, so I’m going to call this in while you just sit there quietly, OK?” 

Once again, Blair nodded eagerly. Hopefully Simon would verify his story and he would soon be on his way back to Cascade. Back home to Jim. 

As good as his word, the trooper contacted Cascade Central on the number Blair had supplied, and was soon put through to Simon. Identifying himself as Trooper Moses Blanchard, he quickly and succinctly explained the reason for his call, carefully studying Blair as Simon described his missing consultant, and soon verifying his identity to his satisfaction. Terminating the call, he grinned amiably at his expectant passenger. 

“Well, Dr Sandburg, it seems like your Captain Banks is prepared to vouch for you, so let’s get rid of the bracelets, huh?” and so saying, he produced a key and released Blair’s hands. Blair sighed in relief, shaking the stiff and cold appendages as he tried to convey his thanks to the grinning Blanchard. Suddenly, and somewhat tardily, he tried signing, to break into an even happier smile when Blanchard said, “Oh, right. Signing. I can’t do it myself very well, but I understand a bit. Did a course a while back at night school. Guess that’ll help pass the time until your friends meet us at the city limits. I’m only sorry I can’t take you all the way home, doc, but my jurisdiction ends where Cascade begins.” 

But Blair didn’t mind one bit. He already trusted the big trooper, and soon he would be back home where he belonged. The question of what would happen next could wait.   


\---------------------------------  


**Back in Simon’s office:**  


Jim paced restlessly around Simon’s office, his movements as smooth and graceful as those of the black jaguar, his animal spirit. And every bit as deadly as that feline predator. His father had been placed in an interview room for the time being, although Jim would have preferred it if he had been thrown in a holding cell. But whether he liked it or not, Ellison senior still had some clout, so for now he was taking advantage of what little comfort and respect he could get. 

“I’m telling you, Simon, I _know_ Blair’s OK! Well, not exactly OK, but alive. And free. I can’t explain it any better than that, sir. Call it a sentinel voodoo thing if you like, but I’m certain of it. But I don’t know _where_ he is! That’s the kicker!” 

It was all true, insofar as Jim genuinely believed that the ‘messages’ he had recently begun receiving from Blair were part of their new telepathic ability and not some trick of the imagination, even though the content was sometimes less than clear. Part of his brain – the very small part which wasn’t totally focussed on his guide’s safety – wondered if their skills could be honed with practice until distance was literally no object, but right now he needed Blair back in his arms and in his territory. And he still couldn’t quite bring himself to explain more fully about their new-found communication system to Simon. Especially as he wasn’t 100% convinced that he understood it anyway. He needed to discuss the whole subject with Blair before they made any decisions one way or the other, because if anyone could make sense of it – no pun intended – it would be his brilliant lover. Besides which, it seemed monumentally unfair to push Simon’s incredulity even further than it had been pushed already over the past few years without proper evidence, if indeed there was such a thing. 

Jim was aware that Simon was already struggling with his subordinate’s assertions, and had to give his captain credit for not dismissing them out of hand, but by the sour expression on Simon’s face, his response still wasn’t going to be what Jim wanted to hear. 

However, just then, Simon’s desk phone rang, and he snatched it up to hear Rhonda telling him that he had a call from a State Trooper regarding Blair. Quickly asking her to put the call through, he indicated to Jim to pick up the nearest extension, both men hoping against hope that they were about to get good news. 

They were.  


\------------------------------------  


**Shortly after, Cascade City Limits:**  


“There it is! Over there!” an excited Jim pointed out a unit parked up next to a diner, his eager expression all the proof Simon needed that they were soon to retrieve their lost friend. Smiling in response, he pulled into the diner’s parking lot, both men exiting the sedan as quickly as possible to advance on the trooper’s vehicle, desperate to see for themselves that Blair was indeed alive, if not all that well. Jim’s senses were already checking in, and he wasn’t too happy with his conclusions, but for now the most important thing was to touch his lover. To feel for himself that warm bundle of guide who meant the world to him. 

And suddenly he ‘heard’ that beloved voice in his head, and realised that yet again, Blair was more concerned about Jim’s state of mind than his own health and wellbeing. He really was going to have to work on his guide’s lack of self-esteem. 

_‘Jim, man! It’s so good to see you. I knew you’d come for me, but man, you look wasted!’_

And suddenly a muddy, dishevelled figure was out of the unit and in his arms, both of them uncaring as to what either Trooper Blanchard, Simon or any other passers-by might think. 

“Blair, babe,” Jim whispered into a curl-covered ear. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. I’m so proud of you, honey.” Then, raising his voice so that their small audience could hear, he said, “When we get to the hospital, I want to hear everything.” 

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Blair stiffened in his hold and pulled back a little to frown up into Jim’s exasperated face. 

_‘I don’t need to go to hospital, Jim! I just want to go home! Come on, man! A hot shower and some decent food, and I’ll be good to go!’_

Shaking his head fondly, Jim pondered for a moment on the fact that Blair’s mental voice actually seemed to whine before reiterating his demand as Simon and Moses Blanchard looked on, both grinning fit to burst. 

“No, Blair. Do it for me, if not for yourself. You were due a full physical anyway, and this way you can get it over with in one go. You won’t have done yourself any favours trekking through the forest, so just put my mind – _both_ our minds – at rest, OK?” He offered Blair his most pleading expression, and of course, Blair couldn’t deny him anything after that. 

Still frowning darkly, and unintentionally looking like the poster boy for waifs and strays, Blair capitulated reluctantly. 

_‘If you insist, man. But I’m telling you, Jim, they’re not keeping me in, OK?’_

“Thanks, kiddo. It’s for the best, you’ll see,” Jim answered with a grin. 

Of course, Simon and Moses had no idea of the full content of their ‘discussion’, but Blair’s expressive face was enough to convey both his dislike of hospitals, and his grudging surrender, so with a word of sincere thanks to the smiling trooper, Simon returned to his car, waiting for Jim and Blair to join him for the trip to Cascade General’s ER. 

With his arm around Blair’s shoulders, Jim reached out a hand to shake Blanchard’s, saying, “Thanks for everything, Trooper Blanchard. You don’t know how grateful I am to have my partner back safe and almost sound!” 

“Oh, I think I might have an idea,” came the jovial response. “The doc and I had a pretty good discussion while we were waiting, so I know just how much he cares about you and the rest of you guys in Major Crimes. You take care, now,” he continued, addressing Blair. “I don’t want to find you wandering around in the wilderness again, OK?” 

Nodding eagerly, Blair seized the big man’s hand in both of his; shaking it firmly before signing, _‘Thank you. For everything’._

“You got it, doc. Be well,” and with that, the big trooper returned to his unit while Jim and Blair climbed into the back of Simon’s car, there to sit pressed close together as their captain and friend drove them to the hospital.  


\----------------------------------  


**Epilogue: Two weeks later.**  


As Jim drove to the PD, he cast a glance at his quiet passenger, a small smile lifting his lips as he noted Blair’s serene expression as he gazed out of the side window. He knew that Blair was truly content to be finally returning to work, his adventures unsurprisingly having set his recovery back a few days. Having said that, there had been plenty to keep him – to keep them both – occupied during that time, so there had been very little boredom on Blair’s part for once. Allowing his mind to roam, Jim thought about the past weeks, and how much their lives had changed in the short time since Blair’s abduction. 

He chuckled inwardly at the memory of Blair’s grumpy toleration of Dr Manning’s thorough check-up on arrival at Cascade general. In his heart of hearts, the younger man undoubtedly realised that it was necessary, but such was his hatred of hospitals, he really did want to get back to the loft as soon as possible. After the fear and stress of the past few hours, all he wanted was to be back in Jim’s arms, soaking up the comfort he knew his sentinel would offer. However, after much tutting and head shaking, Dr Manning advised them both that he would prefer to keep Blair in overnight for observation on account of the severe strain he had been forced to put on healing tissues and muscles still too weak to take it. It had taken a whole lot of heavy-duty puppy dog pleading on Blair’s behalf, and sincere promises from Jim that he would watch over his partner like a hawk to convince the conscientious physician to allow Jim to take Blair home, on the proviso that he return for a further assessment the following morning. With immense gratitude on both their parts, the pair was driven home to the loft by an accommodating Simon, and once there, Jim had wasted no time in caring for and reconnecting with his lover. 

Helping his flagging guide into the shower, he had shaved and shampooed him, then washed the beloved body with sentinel sensitivity, careful in this instance to comfort rather than arouse. With Blair nearly asleep on his feet, he had dried his partner and dressed him in warm sweats before settling him, at his request, on the sofa. Relaxed at last, and cocooned in pillows and blankets Blair had fallen instantly asleep; lulled by the sounds of Jim pottering around in the kitchen, preparing a light meal of tasty, home-made soup for when he woke again. 

And much later that night, Jim had made the gentlest love to his beloved soulmate, both of them needing to celebrate Blair’s safe return, and enjoying the shared knowledge of their eternal commitment to each other. 

It was in the lazy aftermath of that exquisite lovemaking that Jim suddenly roused to the softest of whispers in his ear. 

“L…love you, man, a…a…always!” 

Sitting up, wide awake again, he had stared disbelievingly down into Blair’s warm blue gaze, his lover’s lush lips lifted in the tiniest of smug grins. 

“You spoke, baby! You spoke, didn’t you? Gods! That’s…that’s _wonderful!_ Can you do it again?” 

“Y…yes, b…but n…n…not much,” Blair had struggled to respond, but it was enough for Jim. 

“It’s OK, babe. Don’t try too hard now. It’s enough that you managed that much! Hell, it’s a miracle, lover! And I’m absolutely certain that with time it’ll get better. I love you so much, babe. You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known!” 

Blair had blushed delightfully at the compliment, and they had cuddled close for the rest of the night, both buoyed up by the hope that Blair had turned the corner and was on his way to full recovery. 

Of course, they both knew that it was never going to be as easy as that, and the following morning Blair had had to struggle mightily to utter the simplest words, but Jim wouldn’t allow him to despair. And from then on, he had begun to work daily with the speech therapist, such that already there had been a marked improvement, even if the aphasia gave way only with great reluctance. It was early days yet, and Blair was bound and determined to persevere. 

But the very best thing about the gradual return of Blair’s ability to vocalise was that their non-verbal communication was still there. Both Jim and Blair had thought that it might fade once it became less necessary, but that didn’t seem to be the case thus far. Perhaps it was yet another facet of their sentinel and guide relationship instigated by the guide’s temporary adversity. Who knew? Neither of them was complaining, as it was another useful weapon to add to their arsenal of skills. And they still felt no need to reveal it, especially now. 

Of course, there had been a far more painful situation to deal with, and Jim still wasn’t entirely happy with the outcome. Blair had adamantly refused to bring charges against William for his kidnapping, and Jim had been hard put to accept his decision. However, Blair had painstakingly explained why he had made that decision, and eventually Jim had reluctantly agreed. Blair had insisted that, should the case ever come to court, the whole sentinel dissertation debacle would undoubtedly re-emerge, to be picked over by the media once again, and after working so hard to bury it and live with the consequences, he had no desire to put either Jim or himself under the spotlight again. 

He also explained that, much as he had been hurt by William’s attitude towards him personally, at the end of the day he was still Jim’s father, and he couldn’t in all good conscience see the man imprisoned. 

However, the punishment the pair of them had actually exacted on the older man was probably severe enough in William’s eyes. Blair had accepted - albeit rather unwillingly – a very reasonable out-of-court settlement as compensation for his distress, but had also insisted that William fund a permanent scholarship in Anthropology at Rainier in Blair’s name to benefit a talented but impecunious student. 

Added to that was the loss of face William had to deal with as the rumours of his unethical behaviour inevitably did the rounds of the Country Club and Cascade’s social elite, and the adverse effects the repercussions of his actions had on both his social and business lives. He would never again enjoy the sort of social standing and reputation to which he was accustomed and for an egocentric personality like him, that was punishment indeed. 

And of course, he would ever after remain estranged from his eldest son; living in the shadow of Jim’s threat to his own safety should he ever even think of approaching Blair again. 

Perhaps it was enough after all. 

Pulling up at a red light, Jim succumbed to temptation and reached across to gently grip the nape of Blair’s neck. Although he still missed the wild curls, this grown up version of his guide did have compensations, as in the exposure of that long, elegant neck. His lover truly was beautiful, both inside and out, and Jim thanked his luck stars every day that he had finally had the courage to admit it and take Blair as his own. 

Turning to face Jim, his expression quizzical as it was warm, Blair murmured, “Every…everything O…OK, Jim?” 

“Yeah, Chief. Couldn’t be better,” Jim replied fondly. “Here we are, on our way to the PD. You’re safe, healthy and improving all the time, and my senses are just loving your proximity.” 

Reverting to his telepathic ability, as he still did when his spoken words couldn’t keep up with his thoughts, Blair answered, _‘Knock yourself out, Jim! It’s so good to be going back to work, and will be even better when I can go out in the field with you again. Can’t wait to see how this telepathy thing can benefit us in those situations!’_

“As long as you’re safe, that’s all I need, babe,” Jim replied fervently. “And you just know that the gang are going to give you a huge welcome, don’t you? Just don’t be surprised at your reception, huh?” 

“S…s…sure, Jim!” Blair chuckled disbelievingly. “Uh, l...light’s ch…changed!” 

But when they entered the bullpen, Blair just had to exchange a rueful grin with his smirking partner as he was immediately surrounded by his friends and colleagues, enfolded in an emotional Megan’s arms before being generally hugged, patted, congratulated and made much of. 

It was good to be back. 

**The End**   



End file.
